


Birthday Sex (Part 2)

by beccaheartschrisevans



Series: Birthday Sex Series [2]
Category: American Actor RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 09:37:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7569178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beccaheartschrisevans/pseuds/beccaheartschrisevans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris and his wife go on a little vacation for his birthday during the filming of Inifinity Wars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birthday Sex (Part 2)

**June 13, 2017**

The lack of sound around you pulls you from your unplanned slumber. Opening your eyes, you blink as the midday’s sun greets you, making you realize your sunglasses have disappeared. Looking out the windshield, you see tall trees save for the large, log cabin inspired house Chris had rented for the remainder of his birthday week.

“Good afternoon, sleeping beauty,” you husband teases from the driver’s seat.

You smile sleepily and then stretch your body, groaning because your muscles are tight from the awful position you slept in on the car ride from Atlanta.

“Sore?” Chris asks and you nod. “Let’s get the car unpacked and then we can go take a bath.”

You turn your face to look at him and you see the sexy smirk resting on his lips. He lifts his sunglasses up to give you a wink, telling you that helping you ease your sore muscles isn’t the only thing he has planned for your bath.

Opening the car door, you step out into the already hot, sticky air that you still haven’t adjusted to despite having lived in Georgia since last November, due to Chris filming the Avengers Infinity Wars movies.

“This is nothing baby,” Chris chuckles as he appears with your bag. “Just wait until July and August.”

“Maybe I should go home for awhile,” you suggest, not looking forward to the even hotter weather. “Or maybe Boston, it shouldn’t be this hot there, right?”

“You’re not going anywhere,” he says, leaning over to kiss your cheek. “If I can get through this wearing the Cap costume, you can definitely get through it in a pair of hot pants and a tube top.”

“Have you thought that through babe?” you ask him. “Think of how much tighter the Cap suit will get if I’m on set dressed like that and trying to cool myself down by holding ice cubes to my heated skin.”

He lets out a small groan before he finds his voice. “In the house. Now.”

“What about the bags?” you ask as he moves away from you to slam the trunk closed.

“I’ll get them later,” he replies. He leads you up the stairs to the front door and uses the key from the rental office to unlock the door. He tosses the lone bag he brought in onto the floor right inside the door and then points to the stairs. “Let’s go.”

“Wait! You can’t wear your shoes in the house,” you say, pointing to the sign on the wall. You make short work of your flip flops, kicking them off, while he hops around trying to remove his sneakers and socks without sitting down.

Smiling to yourself, you pass him and quickly climb the stairs, ignoring the pain in your muscles. You’ve always been a fan of taking baths, especially in a nice, deep, soaking-style tub; something that Chris hadn’t understood until his birthday last year, when the two of you had taken advantage of the large bath tub at the house he’d borrowed. It had even led to him giving you a “coupon” for a complete master bathroom redesign for your house in LA as a wedding present last fall; with said redesign due to be completed by the time filming for Infinity Wars wrapped.

Reaching the top of the stairs, you see a set of double doors at one end of the hall and can see a large bed just inside. Hearing Chris’s heavy footsteps behind you, you make your way into the master bedroom and through a second door, coming to a dead stop as you enter the gorgeous master bathroom. Most of the room is dark with wood accents, but the large bathtub is surrounded by large stones, including two stone steps leading up to it.

“Perfect, isn’t it?” Chris asks as he wraps his arms around you.

“It reminds me of the one at the lodge in Colorado,” you reply, bringing up the large “cabin” where you and Chris had married last October in a private ceremony with just yours and his immediate family members in attendance. There had been a lot of debating on whether or not to wait until after Infinity Wars finished filming to get married, but the truth was neither of you had wanted to wait that long. Which had led to other questions, like where to have a wedding: your hometown, his hometown or in Los Angeles, where you’d met. Ultimately, you’d both decided that a smaller, destination wedding was the way to go with each of your families hosting a reception for you at a later date.

The reception in his hometown had taken place around Thanksgiving and your family had flown out to be there for the festivities, which had included trying to fit way too many people around Chris’s mom’s dining room table. Then, a month later, between Christmas and New Year’s Eve, your parents had hosted a reception for the two of you in your hometown, in which his family had also attended.

As much as you had loved those receptions, however, neither had been able to top the one that Robert Downey Jr. had thrown for you and Chris the weekend after filming for Infinity Wars had officially began. It had taken place at the lovely estate that his family was staying in for the duration of filming and he had invited all the cast and some of the crew, especially those who had been working on the various Avenger and Captain America movies since the very beginning, to what he’d originally described as an outdoor reception. Unbeknownst to you and Chris, though, he had also been secretly gathering vows, written by the invitees, for you and Chris to exchange.

The whole afternoon had been a complete blast and you can’t help but giggle as you recall the most memorial vow that you had _refused_ to read aloud on principle, despite the urging from the group.

“What’s so funny?” Chris asks, breaking into your thoughts.

He had been the one who’d ended up reading the vow, in which you would have had to promise to name your first born after Tom Brady. The group had both cheered and booed, all of them aware of Chris’s love for the New England Patriot’s quarterback, and Chris had allowed their energy to sweep him into the moment and cockily tell them that it would be tabled for discussion later. You had deflated any chance of that by reminding him that you had your own favorite NFL team and favorite quarterback.

“Just remembering the party Robert threw for us,” you reply, closing your eyes as you feel Chris press his lips against your neck.

“We’re both wearing too many layers,” he whispers in your ear as his hands find the hem of your tank top. As he raises the shirt up, you lift your arms in an effort to help.

Before the shirt even hits the floor, his fingers are undoing the hooks of your bra and you feel it slacken. He turns you around to face him and then he takes ahold of the straps of your bra and pulls them down your arms, revealing your breasts to his hungry eyes. He lets the bra fall to the floor between you as he reaches out and gives your tightening nipples a soft pull, causing a moan to escape your lips.

Not wanting to be the only one half naked, you reach out and grab the hem of his shirt and help him out of it. Licking your lips, you take in the hard planes of his body. He’s been keeping to a strict diet and a workout routine that has done wonders for his body. Without any thought, you reach your hands out and touch his pecs, loving the way the muscles feel against your hands, even though you miss the chest hair he waxes off to play Steve. You draw your hands down his chiseled torso to the waistband of his cargo shorts.

He stands patiently as you undo the fastenings of his shorts and then push them down, so they pool at his feet. Raising your eyes to his, you tease his already aroused cock through his black Calvin Klein boxer briefs. Knowing him as well as you do, you know it will only be a matter of time before he takes back control. You slip your hand under the waistband of his boxer briefs and tease the tip of his cock.

Something flashes in his eyes and, suddenly, you find yourself pressed against the closest wall. His mouth on yours while his hands work furiously on the fastenings of your jean shorts. He makes short work of them and yanks your panties down as far as he can before his fingers slide between your legs and get back at you for your teasing.

“I thought,” you say between breaths. “We were going to take a bath.”

He pulls his hand from between your legs, grazing your clit as he does so, just to make you moan. His eyes are dilated from arousal as he steps back and takes a deep breath. Walking over to the bathtub, he leans over and turns on the water.

“I’ll be back,” he says before he leaves the room.

You finish undressing and then do your best to pull your hair back in an attempt to keep most of it dry. Then you test the water temperature, adjusting it slightly, before digging through the basket of bubble bath scents provided. Choosing a lemon and vanilla scent, you sprinkle it into the tub and watch as the bubbles start to form.

Unable to wait for Chris, you slide into the hot water and a loud sigh fills the room as your muscles begin to relax. You lean back against the porcelain tub and close your eyes. You’ve enjoyed your extended stay in Georgia, but the small house that you and Chris are renting has a bathtub the size of a sink, meaning you haven’t had a nice long soak since the last day of yours and Chris’s honeymoon.

“You look comfortable,” he says, alerting you to his return.

You open your eyes and see that he is holding a bottle of champagne and two flutes. He sets them on the deck of the bathtub then takes off his boxer briefs, freeing his hard cock. He turns the water off, as the bathtub is nearly full, then he climbs the steps to the tub.

“Do you want champagne now or later?” he asks, squeezing himself in beside you.

“Later,” you reply as you climb on top of him and press your lips against his. His hands find your hips as you rock yourself against him, the water lapping against the edges of the tub.

“I don’t know how much of this I can take without ruining it for both of us,” he confesses.. “Fucking you in this bathtub has been all I’ve thought about since I found this place online the other night.”

“Then fuck me,” you reply, playfully.

“It’s _my_ birthday,” he says. “You’re supposed to do all the hard work, remember?”

Raising an eyebrow, you slide your hand between your bodies and take hold of his hard cock. Licking your lips, you slide the tip of him through your folds, teasing both of you, before positioning him at your entrance. He raises his hips as you lower yours and he slides into you.

Your hands find the edge of the tub on either side of his head and you hold on as you begin to move your body. One of his hands also finds an edge of the tub to anchor you both while the other takes one of your bubble covered breasts in hand and teases you.

As your desire builds, the water splashes against the edge of the tub, occasionally spilling onto the stone deck. Chris’s hand leaves your second breast and slips between your bodies as you both grow closer to your releases.

Your hands find Chris’s strong shoulders as your body begins to tense and you cling to him as your orgasm rips through your body, forcing every muscle to tighten all the way to your baby toes. His hands find your waist and he keeps your bodies moving together until you feel his body jerk under yours, sending spurt after spurt of his baby making juices inside of you.

Collapsing against his chest, it takes you several minutes before you’re able to think clearly.

“I’ll take some of that champagne now,” you say with a smile.

Chris moves you off of him and leans over to pour you each a drink before resettling himself and motioning for you to join him. You slip between his legs and rest your back against his chest. He hands you a champagne flute and you hold it up, waiting for him to make a toast, since he can’t drink champagne without making one.

“To no more birth control pills and lots of baby making practice,” he says.

Giggling, you clink your glass against his and then take a sip of the bubbly liquid. As you lean back against his chest and close your eyes, you can’t help but picture the future with a bunch of little you and Chris’s running around.


End file.
